A Twisted Mirror
by HazardLife
Summary: Crossover with DEVIL MAY CRY. The Hellsing Organisation find themselve battling not vampires, but demons, and they have competition - in the form of the Son of Sparda, Dante. What will happen when demons and vampires collide?
1. Chapter 1

_Naturally, I do not own Hellsing, Devil May Cry or their characters. I stole them. Yes, **stole** them, and am now in possession of the two most unstoppable supernatural forces in existence. Me FTW!_

* * *

**A Twisted Mirror**

**Chapter 1**

The rain was still coming down hard as Detective Paul Harper stepped out of the abandoned apartment complex on the outskirts of London. Three hours ago, the police had received a call reporting gunshots and explosions being heard from inside the building. The SAS had arrived on scene five minutes later, but it quickly became clear that whoever had been there was already gone. What they had left in their aftermath however, had been enough to make even several of the hardened SAS troopers sick to the stomach.

Harper stepped under awning of a tent the London Metropolitan Police had erected on site and tried to light a cigarette, hands shaking involuntarily. One of the officers, PC Fletcher, according to his badge, walked over to him, looking equally unsettled.

"You saw what it's like in there, right?" The constable asked. Harper gave a halting nod. "Jesus Christ," Fletcher continued, "I've never seen anything like it. All that blood… that writing on the walls, and those creepy piles of sand…" The officer paused again to swallow. "You have any idea what happened?"

Harper shook his head. "I don't even think I want to know."

"This case is a nightmare," Fletcher muttered. "Scotland Yard just told us that they're handing over jurisdiction. I though it might be Torchwood, but apparently it's something called the Hellsing Organisation that's taking over.

"Hellsing…?" Harper repeated. "I've never heard of them."

The constable shrugged. "Me neither. They'll be here soon. We've been ordered to wait for their instructions."

As they stood under the cover of the tent, the rain outside seemed only to get worse. Eventually, two sets of headlights emerged out of the gloom. The first vehicle was a silver Rolls Royce with blackened windows, the second was a large unmarked armoured truck.

The vehicles pulled to a halt, and the truck began to disgorge a troop of what looked like Special Forces soldiers. They wore full body armour and carried MP5 submachine-guns. Each had a logo embossed on the right breast of the armour – a shield divided into four black and red squares.

The passenger door of the Rolls opened and a woman climbed out. She had waist-length blonde hair, wore a long, dark-green coat, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted round-lens spectacles.

Another woman appeared out of the armoured truck after the last of the troopers. She wore a blue uniform, and had short, ginger hair, but it was her eyes that caught Harper's attention. Even through the rain, he could clearly see that they were red.

The detective watched as the first woman called out to the second.

"Seras."

"Yes M'am!" She answered, hurrying over.

"Secure the perimeter," The blonde woman ordered, "But tell your men not to go inside."

"Right, M'am." The one called Seras responded, turning to go.

"Have you seen Alucard?" The other woman asked.

"No." Seras shook her head. "But knowing him, that doesn't mean he's not here."

The ghost of a smile appeared on the blonde woman's lips. Finally, she nodded, and Seras hurried off to join the troops. The woman then walked into the tent where Harper and the constable were standing.

"Who's in charge here?" She enquired, taking a thin cigar from a case in her coat and lighting it.

Harper hesitated. He found her darkened glasses a bit disconcerting. Her eyes weren't visible through them, and he wondered how she could see out. "I guess I am," He eventually said, fumbling to get his police ID out. "I'm Detective Paul Harper."

"Integra Wingates Hellsing." She didn't offer any ID of her own. "Tell me the situation in there."

"Frankly, it's a mess," He told her. "Blood everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, even on the ceilings, but not a single body to be found. Then there's the writing on the walls, it's not any language I recognise, some sort of hieroglyphics. Weird shit, and if that wasn't weird enough, there's sand all over the place. It's like someone dumped half of Brighton beach in there."

"Is that all?" Integra asked, cigar smoke curling around her.

"Well, there's no sign of the assailants," Constable Fletcher added. "Plenty of shell casings, but other than that, nothing."

"Fine, I won't keep you any longer," Integra dismissed, walking away. Harper and Fletcher shared a knowing look, neither one of them was going to question the orders of a heavily-armed military organisation.

* * *

Integra stepped into the run-down building, the tip of her cigar the only point of light in the darkness. Seras followed her inside, carrying a torch. Vampires could see in the dark, but without any light at all, making out detail became difficult.

They were standing in the lobby of the structure. A staircase spiralled up to three floors above them. Rainwater was leaking down from a hole in roof, pattering noisily on the floor. The whole place stank of damp, rot and blood. A lot of blood. Seras had never smelled such a concentrated scent before, it was almost overwhelming, yet there was something wrong with it. It didn't smell like human blood at all.

As she panned the torch across the hallway, the reason for the smell became obvious. Not a single flat surface in the place remained that wasn't covered with bloodstains. The stairs had acted like a macabre cascade, blood from the upper floors dripping down them.

Scattered here and there, rising out of the blood like islands, were piles of grey sand. Each pile was quite dense, and clearly separate from the others, almost as if each had been a solid mass before disintegrating.

"What do you think, M'am?" Seras asked, scanning the torch over the sand. "Ghouls?"

Integra shook her head, annoyed. "Ghouls turn to dust, not sand. This is something else."

Seras squatted down and picked up one of the many shell casings that blanketed the floor. ".45 calibre." She held it to her nose and sniffed. "Nothing special about them, just ordinary rounds."

Integra was uninterested, instead she was intently studying a large gash in one of the walls. It looked as if it had been made by a blade, and it must have had considerable force behind it, because it had cut right through brick and into the next room.

Seras stood up and followed Integra through an open doorway. The door itself had been smashed off its hinges. The room they found themselves in had at one point been an apartment, but in its current state, it looked more like the asylum cell of a madman. Someone had scrawled all over the walls in blood, the language was unreadable, but due to the sheer amount written down, it seemed that person had something to say.

One symbol stood out from all the others, it was drawn larger than the rest, and didn't seem to be part of any sentence. It was a simple design – three dots, forming a triangle. It had been printed again and again, on every spare bit of wall.

"Alucard!" Integra called out, tired of waiting for him to show himself.

The darkness in the room seemed to thicken, then coalesce into a solid form. Alucard stepped out of the shadows, coat swirling around him. "You called, Master?"

Integra gave him a cold glare. "What took you so long?"

The vampire smiled, flashing his teeth. "I've been right here the whole time."

Seras would have smiled too, if not for Integra's disapproving look. Alucard seemed to have developed a twisted sense of humour recently, it was a refreshing change from his usual coldness, but she wondered what had brought it on.

"Alucard," Integra pointed impatiently to the writing on the walls, "Does this mean anything to you?"

Alucard barely gave the symbols a glance. "I can't read it. It's not any language from recorded history."

"This is… frustrating." Integra started pacing back and forth. "This isn't the work of vampires, yet it clearly wasn't done by human hands either. Damn it…" With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Alucard and Seras standing in the dark.

"Master, is something bothering her?" Seras asked. "She's been acting differently since the incident at the Tower of London."

"I believe she's having adjustment problems," Alucard stated, cryptically.

Seras frowned. "Adjustment problems…?"

"Never mind, police girl." And with that, he disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Seras on her own.

"No one ever explains anything to me…" Seras said to no one in particular. She sighed, and headed for the exit. The smell in this place was really starting to bother her.

* * *

Now off-duty, Detective Harper was sitting in his favourite pub, nursing a scotch. After leaving the crime scene, he had just wanted to have a quiet drink without any bothers, but his peace was being disturbed by three noisy Americans who were sitting in a booth near the wall. There were two women and a man, dressed ridiculously, as only Americans would be.

The first woman had long blonde hair and was clad in tight, black leather trousers and a corset with a lightning bolt-shaped split down the front. The second woman had short black hair and was wearing a white blouse, a short tartan skirt and most strikingly, bright red boots. However, it was the man who was turning the most heads in the pub. He was over 6ft tall, was wearing a long red leather coat, and had pure white hair.

They had been drinking, talking and arguing non-stop since Harper had walked in, and it didn't seem like they were planning to stop anytime soon. Currently, the man was complaining about the weather.

"Why does always have to rain in England?" He groaned. "I got up this morning, thinking 'it can't possibly rain for another whole day, can it?' and what do I get? Rain! I mean, come on! Can't the weather in this country be more original for once?"

"It doesn't always rain here," The leather-clad blonde told him, "There was a day this year when it was hotter here than in Spain."

"Heh, I woulda' liked to have seen that!" The man scoffed. "I think when this over, I might go and live in a desert."

"How are you going to get your beer and pizza then, stupid?" The black-haired woman asked him sarcastically.

Instead of answering back immediately, the man picked up his glass and downed the remaining half-pint, before waving it in the woman's face. "Your round, Lady."

"Fuck you." She retorted, sipping her own drink.

The man threw his arm around her shoulders, his other hand resting on her thigh, and slowly creeping higher. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whispered in her ear.

"Jerk." The woman replied, but she didn't look as if she was hating the attention entirely.

"Ahem!" The blonde coughed pointedly.

"Y'know Trish, there's always room for one more…" The man grinned.

The woman called Trish sighed. "Could you not do that in public, at least? This is England. People here are a little more reserved."

"Oh." A look of sincerity appeared on the man's face. He stood up and loudly addressed the other patrons. "My apologies, folks! Me and my eight inch hard-on will save it 'til we get back to the hotel."

The black-haired woman snorted with laughter, choking on her drink.

"Jesus Christ, Dante!" Trish growled, pulling him down by his sleeve. "Can't you just grow up?!"

"You know me, Trish," Dante shrugged. "I'm like a horny version of Peter Pan."

Over at the bar, Harper found himself wondering whether he could fabricate enough evidence to get them deported, though in the end, he gave up on the idea and just ordered another scotch.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Note:**Lady's reminiscence of her first meeting with Trish is a reference to the DMC Animated Series. For any fan of DMC who hasn't seen it, I recommend it highly._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It was nearly morning by the time Integra's Rolls Royce arrived back at the Hellsing mansion. Walter was waiting in the hallway as Integra stepped inside, water dripping from her soaked coat.

"You really should have taken an umbrella, Sir Integra," Walter sighed. "You'll catch a cold like that."

Integra brushed past him, angrily. "You know I don't catch colds anymore," She growled.

"Of course, Ma'am. My apologies." Integra halted in the middle of the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching. "Oh dear," Walter apologized, "I seem to have put you in a mood."

Integra exhaled heavily, unclenched her firsts and put her hand to her forehead. "Sorry Walter," She breathed, "It's not your fault. The smell in that place was pretty bad."

"I understand," The butler nodded, sympathetically. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"The police crime scene photographs have been sent to you, I'd like to look through them," Integra instructed. "Also, I want you to check if sand has any significance in the supernatural world."

"Right away, Ma'am." Walter bowed, and left to begin his work.

Alone, Integra retreated to her study. She wanted to wash and take a rest, otherwise she was afraid she might try to kill someone. This incident was already getting on her nerves, and she didn't even know what she was dealing with yet.

* * *

Lady awoke as the light of dawn spilled through the gap between the curtains in her hotel bedroom. She yawned and sat up in bed, pulling the covers around her.

Despite Dante's boasting last night, she had gone to bed alone. As far as she could tell, his flirting was part of some twisted game between him and Trish. Dante seemed to be doing everything he could to annoy her, while Trish was trying her best to not be bothered. It didn't make sense, but they were demons, so it didn't really have to.

Lady wondered if Dante's relationship with Trish could really be considered healthy. She was, technically, a clone of his mother, and that would be enough to put most people off. Still, Lady didn't judge them on this. Dysfunctional families ran strong in the demon-hunting business.

She couldn't help but feel jealous, though. She had known Dante far longer than Trish. After their battle through the Temen-ni-gru, she had even helped him set up Devil May Cry. She had acted coldly towards him in the beginning, back when she had thought that all demons must be evil, but the events that followed had shown her that even some demons could have hearts.

Her first encounter with Trish had been an embarrassing incident. Unknowingly, Lady had been hired by a demon to kill Trish, which had ultimately resulted in a heated catfight which had destroyed most of a church. At that time, Lady had responded furiously to Trish's implications that she might have feelings for Dante, though her real reason for being angry was that Trish had guessed right.

They had worked together on several occasions since then and had become friends, but Lady had always felt envious of Trish's relationship with Dante, and Trish knew it. She wished that, even just once, Dante might follow through on his teasing.

Sighing, she threw the bedcovers aside and scooped her clothes up off the floor. The hotel room was very different to roadside motels and cheap dives she was used to staying in. Trish seemed to have connections in England, and as well as the private, no-questions-asked flight from the States, she had also secured them free rooms in one of London's top hotels.

Lady thought ahead to what she might have for breakfast. Dante would probably have the Full English again for the third day running. He enjoyed being able to eat a plate of fried-everything first thing in the morning. That was another thing she envied Trish for – demons could eat whatever they liked and not have to worry about putting on weight, she on the other hand, would probably have to go with just cereal again.

* * *

"What do you have, Walter?" Integra asked, stepping into his darkened office.

Walter stood up from his desk. "It took me quite a while to work out what the writing was, I had to search through archives predating the Hellsing Organisation itself. The language is a Demonic script, which hasn't been used for nearly two thousand years."

"Demons…" The word sent chills down Integra's spine. One could not seriously hunt Vampires without knowing the legends behind their origin - Stoker's version of the source of his fictional character's powers was not far from the truth – but Integra had prayed that she would never have to face the otherworldly evil that existed in the darkness. "There hasn't been a recorded demon sighting in England since medieval times," She continued. "Are you certain?"

"The writing didn't mean anything to me at first, so I investigated the sand angle," Walter told her. "Other than its general uses for magic circles and the like, sand has one other significance in the supernatural world. Pure salt has always been believed to act as a barrier against spirits and demons, however there is another legend which says that demon souls can use the salt in sand as a medium to form physical bodies in our world."

Integra nodded. "And the sand is left behind if the demon dies. I've heard something like that."

"Indeed," Walter confirmed. "With this in mind, I cross-referenced the writing in the photographs with what few texts have survived from the demon times, and managed to translate a few words." Walter pressed a key and one of the crime scene photographs appeared on his computer screen, with certain parts highlighted. "These bits here speak of a 'Gate' of some kind, while these lines foretell of the 'Return' of some great power. Then there's this…" Walter pressed another key and a photograph of the three-dot triangle appeared on screen. "I found mention of this in the Demon Sword Scrolls. It represents the eye of Mundus, the demon emperor, who was sealed two thousand years ago by Sparda, a demon who turned on his own kind for the sake of the Human World."

Integra gritted her teeth. "That kind of information is known only by a select few. That rules out any chance of this being a hoax. Damn it!" She paced back and forward, before finally coming to a decision. "Contact the Knights, I'm calling a Round Table Conference. Also… notify the civilian Police, tell them to be on the lookout."

"On the lookout for what, exactly?" Walter inquired.

"Those demons didn't kill themselves, Walter," Integra asserted. "Where there are demons, there'll be demon hunters, and since this county has no professional hunters of its own, they must be foreign. Tell them to check the security footage of every international airport, train station and ferry terminal over the last week. Give them the descriptions of every known demon hunter and tell them to report all sightings directly to us!"

"Yes, Sir Integra." Walter smiled. "Demons will be a new experience for us, wouldn't you say?"

"It doesn't matter," Integra stated piously. "All unholy creatures that threaten this country will meet their end by our hand."

Walter nodded his head. "Amen."

* * *

"They want us to do what?!" Detective Harper exploded.

He was in the office of Detective Chief Inspector Lawrence Jones, his immediate superior, and was feeling rather aggravated about being called back into work during his free time.

"I'm just telling you what they told me," The DCI said.

"I can't believe how bloody arrogant those Hellsing people are!" Harper was livid with anger. "Do they understand the resources this is going to take up? Did they even tell us why we're meant to be looking for these people?"

DCI Jones shook his head. "They gave us a list of names and photos, that's all. Actually… some of them don't even have names."

"Great!" Harper yelled in exasperation. "And I'm being put in charge of this because…?"

"You've got experience in dealing with Hellsing." Jones shrugged. "It makes sense to put you in charge of it."

In Harper's mind, being forced off an investigation by a truck-load of armed commandos hardly counted as experience, but that wasn't what was going on. This was a dead-end task, which was why it was being dropped on him. He didn't play well with the bureaucrats in authority – to him, being a copper meant solving crime, not politics – which was why he ended up with all the undesirable tasks.

Harper sighed. "Fine. Just give me the file." Arguing was pointless. The decision had been made and there was nothing he could do about it.

Harper took the folder containing the list of individuals from DCI Jones and left the office. On the way back to his desk, he began to look through the folder. The first page was instructions on where to investigate, and what to do should any of the individuals be located. He flicked over to the second page… and nearly had a heart attack.

The first three photographs at the top of the list were of the same Americans he had seen in the bar the previous night. His pulse racing, he closed the folder and ran the rest of the way to his desk.

* * *

It took until mid-day for all the Knights to arrive at the Hellsing Manor. Looking around the table, Integra saw that one of the chairs was prominently empty and felt a pang of resentment. Even though the traitor among the Knights had been found and tried, nothing could bring back the countless men who had been slaughtered by ghouls due to the traitor's meddling.

"Integra," Began Sir Hugh Islands, seated at the opposite end of the table, "I would very much like to hear why you have gathered us here at this time." There was a murmur of assent around the table.

"Gentlemen, our country is currently facing a threat it has not seen since the middle ages." Integra paused to let this sink in. "I have conclusive evidence that demons have once again appeared within our borders."

The table went into uproar. "Demons? Preposterous!" Called out one of the Knights. Integra remained stony, her reaction to the outburst unreadable behind her tinted glasses.

Sir Islands held up his hand for silence. "That is a highly implausible proclamation, Integra. Are absolutely certain this is the case?"

"I am," Integra calmly stated. "So I ask this table – will you acknowledge the existence of demons and give me leave to destroy them?"

Hushed whispers passed back and forth between the Knights. Eventually, Sir Islands spoke up again. "You appreciate, Integra, that if we acknowledge the existence of demons, we must also acknowledge the fact that most of written history is a fabrication. This is not something we can agree to lightly."

"History was rewritten for a reason," One of the other Knights cut in. "People are not ready to know the truth. If the public knew that until two thousand years ago, this world was ruled by demons, there would be chaos." Another mutter of agreement went up from the table.

"Christianity was founded to protect people from the truth," A different Knight continued. "Our forefathers fought in the crusades to silence those who would speak out and destabilise the world they had created. But now you are asking us to forsake all of that and fight an enemy which, by our own word, does not exist. Can you not understand the implications this would have?"

Integra stood up from the table, fast losing her patience. "I fully understand what this means. And with it in mind, I ask you again – will you acknowledge the existence of demons?"

_To be continued…_


End file.
